by Nisha Sharma
Dedication
To my husband. It took you long enough to find me.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Acknowledgments
Announcement
About the Author
Also by Nisha Sharma
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
Deepak Singh was the fifth son of a fifth son. He was born in a village on the outskirts of Chandigarh, Punjab, India, and was fortunate enough to receive a boarding school education. His father was a police officer, as were his brothers, but Deepak wanted something different. He wanted something more. In his heart of hearts, he wasn’t a warrior like his brothers or the ancestors that came before him. He was a poet, and his poetry was code.
Deepak knew his obsession with code was sometimes difficult to communicate, which was why he needed his morning walks to clear his head and work on his messaging. He approached the carved wooden bench that overlooked the front gardens on his estate and took a seat. The sky was a blend of orange and deep blue already, and he settled down to watch the remainder of the sunrise. A gentle spring breeze cooled his weathered skin, and he let out a sigh. He needed to ask his wife to join him on his walks again so she could enjoy the scenery with him.
He took out the faded sepia picture of his family that he carried in his billfold and looked at the unmarred face of his youth. He remembered the two heavy red leather suitcases he carried, and the determined look on his wife’s face as they exited customs at John F. Kennedy International Airport for the first time all those years ago. He’d come to America to pursue his dreams, and in thirty years, Deepak had started the company Bharat, Inc., become a leading subject matter expert in image processing using deep learning, registered fifteen patents related to image recognition, and amassed a small fortune. He continued to live his life with Guru Nanak’s teachings in mind and raised his three strong sons the same way.
His sons. His joy. They also lived life with Guru Nanak’s teachings and wore their commitment to god in the form of a silver kara he’d given each of them as they entered manhood.
His youngest, Zail, was the most like him, and therefore the easiest for him to understand. They spent hours together in their tech lab situated in Silicon Valley. Zail wore his bracelet in silence and devotion.
His middle son wore his kara and his commitment to family like a badge of honor. Ajay was in line for CEO and he was a powerful leader. Deepak just wished he lived for more than just the business. Like Hem used to.
Hem. Hemdeep. His firstborn and the most complicated of all of his boys. Deepak rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest as a spike of pain shot through his heart. He’d always thought Hem would lead his empire when he was gone, but after their . . . disagreement, Hem refused to participate in the family business anymore. Deepak knew he was a part of the reason why Hem left, and even though he’d seen Hem over the last year and a half, their relationship was strained. All he wanted was his son’s happiness. If he couldn’t ensure that, then all of his money was worthless.
The pain returned in his chest, following a slight tingle. Carefully putting his picture away, he stood on shaking legs and began the slow trek back to the house. Hem would have to find his own away in business and in love. Deepak just hoped that his son wouldn’t lose sight of family in the process.
Chapter One
In seventy-two hours, Hemdeep Singh had flown halfway around the world, led seven meetings for his client, reviewed hundreds of OSHA guidance documents, and taken a tour of two plants and warehouse facilities. The final contract negotiations were underway, and if he could secure the multimillion-dollar agreement, he’d have another successful win for his new firm.
The hotel he used as his home base for negotiations in the Philippines was a hotbed for tycoons and wealthy families because it provided discretion and luxury. Next to the bar that snaked along one side of the waterfall, where bartenders decorated drinks with exotic flowers, Hem swirled the top-shelf whiskey in his tumbler before toasting Faisal Rao, a magnate in the renewable energy industry. Faisal was also a vicious negotiator and had graduated from a top ten law school before investing his family’s fortune in enterprise.
“Section 27.8 won’t affect your bottom line, but it’ll protect both my client and you from tax concerns.”
Faisal hummed and scratched his beard. “I’m likely to agree with you—”
“Then we can sign.”
“But I want my team to take a look at it.”
Damn it, Hem thought. There wasn’t a chance in hell of wrapping up the agreement within the hour if Faisal sent it back to his team. They were slow as shit.
“You know your business better than they do,” Hem countered. “It’s you that’s taking the risk.”
Faisal grinned. “That’s very true.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his thick chest. “That’s why I’m thinking my team should review it. I don’t want to make any rushed decisions since I’ll be paying the penalty.”
“We can go back and forth like this forever,” Hem said.
Faisal let out a laugh. “You’re right. And on that note, it’s nice to see another Indian from the States entrenched in global contract negotiation. We’re a rarity, and our conversations have been a pleasure. Are you a Singh from Rajasthan or Singh from—?”
“Punjab. Sikh Punjabi from Chandigarh. My relatives still live there.” Hem hated this type of small talk but if he could connect with Faisal on a personal level, then he’d bare his soul like he was talking to a shrink just to close the deal.
“My father’s family came from Chandigarh originally,” the man said with apparent joy. “My father was desperate to wear a turban and carry a sword in his youth like the traditional Sikh men he saw growing up. So he’s said. Honestly, your height should’ve clued me in. What are you, six-two?”
“Six-four.”
“Yes, your height is definitely a trademark quality of a Sikh man. You know, I was surprised that Tevish was using such a young firm to handle the negotiation. It couldn’t have just been your height and looks that landed his account.”
Pride.
Faisal was dragging his feet because his pride was injured. Hem relaxed in his seat and grinned at his opponent. Here he was, CEO of a successful midsize business, having to work with an outside law firm on a negotiation. Hem could understand executives that were level-conscious. He’d been the same way when he first started working with his father. It had taken him some time to learn that Deepak Singh didn’t care what position a person held in his company. They were all treated with respect. That didn’t mean executives outside Bharat agreed with the same philosophy, though.
“Tevish’s family has deep connections with mine. I worked as an executive for my family business for years after law school so he knew that I could handle something as important as your agreement.”
“Oh? What’s your f
amily business?”
“Bharat, Inc.”
Faisal’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Your father is . . .”
“Deepak Singh, yes.”
“Why aren’t you still working for the company?”
“Because my father’s business is growing and I need to expand my experience to help it along. Having the right industry knowledge is important in the technology space.”
He’d repeated those words so many times and they felt stale on his tongue. Very few people knew of the heartache, the pain that had triggered his decision to leave. His parents and their involvement in his life were part of the reason why he’d lost his fiancée. Working closely with them was too difficult after he’d gotten his heart obliterated. On top of that, he needed to follow his passion. He’d only ever known Bharat, and it felt too unstructured, too relaxed for him. He wanted more, needed more, and starting his own law firm and investment group had been the best thing he’d ever done.
“Come on, Faisal,” Hem said when he was met with silence. “You can’t be scared of me now that you know my history.”
Faisal’s fingers fluttered over the edges of the tablet he’d been referencing. “I’m scared of nobody, kid. I’ve been at this for a lot longer than you. Honestly, I simply wanted to know how you got so damn good at bullshitting. Now I know. It makes sense why Tevish sent you now.”
Hem grinned. He was closing in on the win. He could feel it. “You should’ve never doubted him.”
Hem felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he discreetly reached inside his jacket and silenced the device. “Sign the contract. You’ll make a shit ton of money if you do.”
“I’m beginning to warm to the idea. Only because I have a feeling you’ll never stop bugging me until I do.”
Hem’s phone began to buzz again.
“Do you need to get that?”
The phone stopped. “No, I—” When it started buzzing again, he took it out and read his brother’s name on the screen. “Yeah, actually, give me a second.” He didn’t spare Faisal another look as he stood from the small table they’d occupied and walked a few feet away for some privacy.
“Ajay, what is it?”
His brother’s gruff voice answered immediately. “I’m calling in the troops, brother.”
“I’ll be back in New York in two days.”
“No, you have to come home now.”
Hem snorted. “Home? Like the estate? It’s better if I keep my distance for a little while longer. Dad still shits himself every time I’m around.”
“I’m not fucking around, Hem.”
Something in Ajay’s voice drained Hem’s humor. “What’s wrong?”
“Have you checked your email yet?”
“No, was I supposed to?”
“Do it.”
Hem opened up his email and saw a message forwarded from his brother. The original message came from Hans Fineburg, CEO of WTA Digital.
TO THE CEO AND CHAIRMAN OF THE BOARD, BOARD OF DIRECTORS, AND LEADERSHIP COUNCIL OF BHARAT, INC.
This missive, adherent to SEC guidelines, constitutes a formal offer of purchase . . .
“What the fuck is this?” Hem snapped.
“That’s not all of it,” Ajay said. “Dad had a heart attack after the letter hit our inboxes this morning.”
Hem felt as if Ajay had sucked all the air out of his lungs. “Is Dad . . . Is he okay?”
“He’s in the hospital, but stable. We haven’t told any of the extended family or staff yet. We’re keeping it quiet. How soon can you be stateside?”
Hem didn’t see eye to eye with his father, but they were still family, and he would do anything for family. He checked his Rolex. “It’ll take me at least a day. I’m in fucking Manila, Ajay. It’s not like they have hourly flights to the US.”
“Didn’t you take your jet?”
“No, I sold it to pay for overhead costs on my firm.”
“Damned inconvenient, Hem.”
“I didn’t want to dip into my earnings from Bharat or my trust to raise the money.”
“It’s still inconvenient. I’ll check with a supplier to see if we can borrow one of their jets for now. If not, I don’t know, chopper to the next largest international airport and book a private jet from there. There is a board meeting in less than twenty-four hours.”
“Did Dad make that decision?”
“No, the fucking board chatted with each other like a bunch of aunties and decided to establish a compensation committee immediately to address the offer. They’re restless since we haven’t met sales targets after we went public. We’ve got to get them in line before they try to oust Dad.”
Ajay was born to be a leader. He’d done amazing work since Hem had left the business and had shark like instincts. If he was worried, things had to be in bad shape. “I’ll be there for the meeting. Whatever you need. How’s Mom holding up?”
There was a deep, frustrated sigh on the other end of the phone. “How do you think? She’s a goddamn rock, man. Yelled at Dad the moment she saw him in the hospital room. Said that he got what he deserved for eating too much mango pickle at night. As if that’s the cause of a heart attack.”
Hem missed his mother, sometimes painfully. Her predictable reaction made him smile. “Thank god for small blessings. I’m going to get myself to the airport. Let me know what you can do.”
“Got it. See you soon, brother.”
Hem hung up and walked back over to Faisal who was reading the last set of provisions on his tablet again.
“Everything okay?” he said.
“No. Sorry, but I need to go.”
Faisal flipped the cover over his tablet and straightened in his seat. “No problem. This will give me time to review with my team again—”
“No.” Hem picked up the tablet which was luckily still unlocked. He scrolled to the bottom of the page, pulled out a stylus, and held it out. “I know you don’t want to give up control over this financial aspect, but fuck it, Faisal. You’re going to be rich. Stop stalling.”
Faisal gave him an even look but he took the stylus and quickly scribbled his name.
Hem did the same for his portion, and they signed six more sections before Hem saved the document and passed the tablet back to Faisal so he could send it through to Hem’s email.
“Happy now?” Faisal said.
“Thrilled. It’s been a pleasure doing business.” Hem picked up his drink and drained the last of its contents before grabbing his coat and his briefcase. He hated himself for wasting those precious five minutes on this guy when all he wanted to do was get home to his father, but he wouldn’t get this opportunity again.
As he rode up to his floor, he thought about his father and the bitter words they exchanged the last time they spoke. After Deepak Singh meddled in his life so coldly, so painfully, they had never seemed to see eye to eye again.
This takeover attempt and a heart attack changed everything. He still loved his father and despite everything that had happened, he’d do anything to help salvage Bharat, even if it meant coming back to the company.
Hem keyed into his room and booted up his laptop to draft a quick message to his paralegals, his assistant, and the ten attorneys that worked for him.
I know we’re just getting our feet wet, but I need you to divide and take my case load temporarily. I’ll sign all the necessary paperwork to transition it to you, but I’ll be out of the office for the next few weeks. You can still reach me by email and my cell if it’s an emergency.
He gave detailed follow-up instructions to his paralegal and his assistant and then began to pack all of his items in his small carry-on bag.
Dread filled his gut at the thought of letting go of the reins on a business that had been his salvation after Bharat. Hopefully his father could see, after the time that had passed, that he’d made the right choice.
But now wasn’t the time to think about old arguments and family politics. His father needed him, his brothers needed hi
m, and there was nothing Hem wouldn’t do to protect them.
“The eldest Singh has returned like a Bollywood fucking hero,” Hem mused to himself as he zipped up his bag.
Chapter Two
Mina Kohli lay sleepless in bed like she did every year on this day. The muted sounds of an early New York City morning filtered through the open window as a backdrop to the drifting memories of her mother. Mina couldn’t help but wonder what kind of relationship they’d have if she was still alive. It’d been fifteen years since the accident, but that didn’t matter. Every birthday reminded her of the hole in her heart and in her life.
A familiar ping echoed through the bedroom and Mina reached out to pick up her phone.
DAD: You’ll get through today.
Simple, short, and to the point. Her father wasn’t an affectionate man, nor were he and Mina close, but sometimes he managed to say just the right thing at the right moment. She sent back a response.
MINA: Just like I always do. Hopefully I’ll see you at the office.
DAD: No. Working from home. I’ll ask my assistant to schedule a lunch later this week.
MINA: Okay, Dad.
DAD: Okay. Happy thirtieth birthday, Mina.
“That’s as close to a touching father-daughter moment as we’ve ever had,” Mina muttered. With a sigh, she opened up her photos and clicked through the albums until she found the one labeled ‘Mom’.
Pictures filled the screen. Her mother looked like her. Long dark hair, eyes too big for her face, and sharp cheekbones. Mina scrolled through the pregnancy photos, the baby photos, and the pictures of the few times they went to Central Park when she was a child.
Shalini Kaur Kohli had been such a powerhouse her entire short life, with an active career and social life. No matter what, she’d always made time for Mina. She’d been a mother, a wife, a litigator, and a sister who raised two younger brothers to be litigators as well. Her life had ended the day her brothers voted her out of the firm she built from the ground up. She’d gotten raging drunk, then climbed behind the wheel of her sedan. Mina discovered the truth about the accident when she was seventeen. That’s when she began her mission to take back her birthright. Nothing was going to stop her.